30.7.11

"aside from your weird socks, your outfit is actually... nice" - my mom

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"All people dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind, wake in the morning to find it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people, for they dream with open eyes, and make the come true."
- D.H. Lawrence

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(Dress - Vintage/ Iceland, Shoes - Vintage $15, Purple Sock - H&M, Pink Sock - Dollarama, Hat - Nepal)

Dreams: exciting and scary.
Chasing dreams: even more exciting and even more scary.
dlakjsldj EEEK. The future is exciting but so scary what am I doing with my life I just want to eat celery just kidding celery is mediocre. (mini reeses pieces cups, on the other hand, are extraordinary.)
Really, I just want my dreams to come true. And that's scary. But exciting.

This is the shortest blog post in my entire existence.
What's the biggest risk you've ever taken?

P.S. I'm off to Alberta tomorrow! Small-town Alberta! Small-town country Alberta! Lots of fun? ahem, um, anyways... It's a family thing, so heck, IT IS LOTS OF FUN. Big Asian family and uncles and aunts and grandma and cousins and little cousins and ME OH MY. It will be good to be with the family and get my head out of the future for a little while. Aside from family shtuff, there's literally NOTHING to do there. So I'm quite confident that blogging schedule won't be far from normal. Hello Starbucks-and-over-priced-food-and-drinks-but-free-wi-fi. Hello.
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^^Yeah. Sometimes I feel bad for what my sister and I put our dog through...

26.7.11

frolicking

It wasn’t until I actually looked at these pictures when a marvelous realization came to mind. (“What?” you inquire.) The Sibling and I are both referencing the 70s! WOAH! CHECK OUT THAT GENE POOL OF SIMILARITIES! WHAT A COINKY DINK! (Coinky dink? Ahem. I promise you: I never say that in real life. Ever. I don’t know what’s gotten into me…) My sister’s sleeves just scream “70s,” while the print of my skirt is all “um, 70s disco partayyy, ANYONE?”

To be honest, the 70s isn’t a decade that I’ve given much thought. I fawn over the 60s… then I tend to fast-forward to the 80s. Nonetheless, there are some select memory packets that percolate when the decade comes to mind. For instance:
1. I totally had a 70s themed Bratz doll. Her name was Felicia (or something) and she had marvelous flippy hair. She came with flared jeans and a belly shirt. (In retrospect, those dolls are utterly horrendous. I'm a little embarrassed. For them, of course. Not the fact that I played with them up until seventh grade. NOPE NOT AT ALL.)
2. My sibling and I used to own a dandy Fisher Price tape machine. It was plastic. You could put a tape (aww, tapes!) in and record yourself. We would often team up with our childhood best friend to have some snazzy singing sessions. One of our favourite tunes was “Stayin’ Alive.” However, I must admit that, at the time, I didn’t realize we were singing “Ooh, ooh, oooh, ooh, stayin’ alive.” I was fully singing, “Oooh, ooh, ooh, oooh, stain glass.” Awk-ward.

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Once upon a time, Mimi bought this dress. Once upon a time, I was shocked. We both decided that this dress is completely out of her character. And that it desperately calls for some grass-woven headbands and dream catcher necklaces and maybe even a ukulele. Nonetheless, it’s cute.
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When I was eating breakfast, my mom excitedly informed me, “The weather is cool outside!” I felt like a child on Christmas: I was prancing and dancing and praising Hallelujah! Seriously. (If you lived in my region then YOU’D KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.) The weather here has been so humid; I take my animal for a pee, and come in looking like my dad when he drinks soup on a hot day (disgustingly and oddly sweaty). Pretty picture in your head? No. Now you understand my excitement at “weather” and “cool” in the same sentence. Unfortunately, that wasn’t QUITE the case, as my sweaty legs and body informed me. Ahem. Anyways, moral of the story is, “The weather is cool outside” should really be “the weather is cool outside relative to what it was earlier” i.e. you can tolerate outside only if you’re in the nude. In conclusion, Southern Ontarian weather ain't good times.
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#selfiesrock #thisweathersucks #wewillsuckitupforthesakeofbeingtotalcamwhores #WERENOTTWINS2every1asking
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(On Me (Lexy): Shirt - Value Village/ Thrifted $3, Flashdance-esque Skirt - Homemade, Tights - Pacific Mall $5, Shoes - Salvation Army/ Thrifted $7, Belts - Thrifted $1 each, Bangles - H&M, Ring - Value Village, Balloon Bib - Homemade)
(On Mimi (younger sibling!): Dress - Topshop, Shoes - Iceland, Bag - Vintage Dooney&Bourke)

I love how distinct the fashions of past decades were. I adore pouring through coffee books and fawning over the goodies of the generations before me. I miss the days when people used to just dress up for the sake and fun of dressing up. I’m not dissing today's fashions, by any means. Today, there’s undoubtedly a huge amount of freedom and availability and equality that makes dressing up today oodles of fun, too. Maybe even more fun because we don’t have as many societal restrictions. Yet, the majority of people I encounter seem to be all drab and blah. That's okay, too, of course. Whatever rock your boat. But still, it makes me wonder what the streets would be like in the old days...

In conclusion, I’ve decided that my future boyfriend will wear bowties and suspenders. On a daily basis. Willingly. Because he’ll just be swell like that.

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What do you think of them fashions of today?

24.7.11

the land of ice

I'm BAAAACKKK. Did you sugar plums miss me? Were you bawling over your computer, highly anticipating this post? Tears trinkling down your face as you sob, "Leexyyyyy, whereeee arttt thouuuu"?

No, you say. No? NO?! NOOOO?! *Dramatic cries. Thunderous screaming. Maybe some hyperventilation for good measure. Like a storm. Then I calm down. Like the calm... after the storm? (Okay, I know it's all about the "calm before the storm." But I think the "calm after the storm" is equally sufficient and realistic and anyways, that's besides the point.)*

Oh, right. Silly me. You probably forgot I was gone. You probably didn't even realize. Why? Because I still posted! Because I planned it all out! Because I CARE! Don't you say that I don't take CARE of you! (That's my dad's favourite line. He utilizes it whenever he performs godly tasks for me. Most recently? He smuggled three chocolate chip cookies from his conference in a napkin and stuffed it in his pocket and gave 'em to me for the plane ride. He's a saint. I love him.)

Anyways. I thought I'd divulge a handful of the, um, 1200+ photos I took over the past week. Iceland was a really beautiful place. Different from what I expected. (No, I didn't picture it as, well, a land of ice. NO, NOT AT ALL, DON'T BE LUDICROUS.) (Okay, FINE. But my sister and I bonded over this likeliness in thinking. I AM NOT A WACKO. Or maybe, we both are. You know. Genes and things.) It was a really beautiful place - very vast. There's something like 3 people for every 1 square kilometer. There's something about the vastness and beauty and just... THEREness (?) of nature that just screams, "dude. you're just an insignificant human being on this gigantic planet." I don't mean that in a bitter way. In fact, quite the contrary. I almost like this feeling. Yes, it makes me feel small and worthless and hey-you'll-die-one-day-but-nature-will-still-be-there (or so I freaking hope. hear that people? love the earth!). But there's also something about this feeling of insignificance that ignites thoughts of, "DUDE. You are so insignificant! Your actions don't have a huge impact on the world! Therefore, DO WHAT YOU WANT." It's a little marvelous.

Right now, I'm kind of in a limbo of anticipation. I have no idea what the next year will bring. But I guess a lot of moments of this trip sparked thoughts of, "ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE."

I swear, kids, my head is always up in the clouds.

Where do you see yourself one year from now?

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Oh, and here are some of the many, many, many pictures from Iceland. We got to go do a lot of fun and crazy and memorable and beautiful things. My mom books a lot of tours when we travel (i.e. every possible time slot). She is anal like that. I hope you enjoy. I was going to commentate these photos, but I realize that I'll probably start sharing stories about how I tried to smuggle pretty poisonous sea urchins home with a six-year-old girl or how I secretly attempted to send my horse off the path for a wilder ride... so I think I won't. If you have inquiries and things, send them this way. There were many marvelous "this is like a postcard" moments. xxx merry days and stuff.

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Click here for more photos! Oooh...